irony in mourning
by Los Desperados
Summary: Wherein Dean's women accidentally cross paths and realize that they have much more in common than just the man who passed through their lives at some point. Takes place before Season 4.


**status **complete  
**prompt **girl bonding; need I say more?**  
****warnings **minor language  
**pairings** one-sided Dean/Jo, if you squint  
**background **post-season 3; two to three months after Dean goes to Hell  
**note **To steer clear of some things—I don't even _like_ Lisa. I don't know if it's the actor or the character, I just _don't._ But I adore Jo. And since they're both Dean's women (or _have_ been, dunno), I thought that some meeting between them was inevitable. Gah. It's so awesome that they _don't_ know who the other is. I believe it's a pretty original idea and it had been playing off in my mind for quite some time, so I thought _why not? _Also, if you've read my other fic _choking on your alibis_, you'll notice that Lisa starts the conversation here the same way Jo does there. Just a pointer.

* * *

**irony in mourning;  
**_p__eople are strange, when you're a stranger._

* * *

Jo was tired. No—she was downright _exhausted_ when she had stepped inside that dusty bar at Cicero, Indiana. She had been hunting a feisty demon for the past four weeks, and had barely had time to catch enough sleep in the last two. It had been roughly two hours since she had exorcized that son of a bitch and sent it back into the pit.

The demonic creature had proven to be more of a challenge than Jo had originally thought. She had come to believe that the demon was just a coward, used to running away after its job was done—namely, after killing as many innocents as it could. But when she had come face to face with the creature, Jo had realized how much she'd underestimated it. And it was one of the top rules of hunting—_never underestimate your opponent._

Long story short, they had indulged in a fight that earned Jo a sprained wrist and a moderate bruise on her left thigh—the result of being thrown down a staircase—as well as a deep gash on her ribcage. But, luckily, said act had gotten the demon right when Jo had wanted it—in the middle of the devil's trap she'd drawn under the mat at the bottom of the staircase. Things had gone smoothly after that — the usual, really; splashing the bitch with as much holy water as she could, chanting the exorcism in Latin as torturously slowly as possible and _bam._ The demon was back in the pit before you could say Lucifer.

Jo had spent the past two hours cleaning up the mess, wiping any handprints she may have left at the crime scene and stitching up herself. It was well past midnight when she was finally done, but she was terribly in need of a beer. Ever since she'd started hunting, she had adopted the Winchesters' way of finishing a case—having a couple of beers at the local bar and hitting the road.

Although she _was_ planning to spend another night on the motel she'd checked in before actually leaving town.

However, despite all her fatigue and the stinging pain in her freshly patched-up torso, Jo decided that a strong dose of alcohol could help her clear her mind and take her thoughts off the job for a couple of hours. She stepped inside the slightly crowded bar and took a seat on a barstool, ordering a beer—for starters. She had spotted a pool table at the corner, where two slightly tipsy men went up against one another and shook her head. She was running out of money lately, but she was in no mood to be playing pool tonight, even if it could earn her a good amount of green, judging by the drunken state of the men in the bar.

Minutes passed in silence, as Jo simply sat on her stool, sipping her beer and enjoying the silence. It was an odd feeling nowadays—the need to be silent and just listen to the world going around. She supposed that living in the Roadhouse for twenty-two years, amidst the hunters and their loud banter and crude jokes, had finally taken its toll on her. Since she had first gone off on her own—a little over a year now—Jo had come to appreciate silence as it came.

Of course, there were times when she'd miss the loud and distinct noises of the Roadhouse—hunters laughing, glasses clinking and pure, rock music playing in the background. Nowadays, silence was sometimes unbearable. It gave her time to think about everything that had been going on in the world lately. What with hundreds of demons and Hell's abominations being freed into their world, Dean's sudden death and the whole Duluth incident, Jo had a lot to think about in the past few months.

The sound of a stool being dragged along the hardwood floor broke Jo out of her thoughts abruptly, so much that she almost reached for her father's knife. Hunter skills be damned, but after Sam's little possession incident, she was on her toes twenty-four-seven. Jo watched from the corner of her eye as a slim brunette took a seat next to her and ordered an apple martini. Deciding that all was good, the blonde hunter shrugged her shoulders and went back to her beer.

As the cool liquid slid down Jo's throat, she found her thoughts drifting back to the person that had been haunting her dreams and occupying her thoughts a lot more than she would like to admit lately—Dean Winchester. Two months had passed since she had heard of his death, and a little over a year since she had last seen him in person or even talked to him through the phone. Truth was, Jo had feelings for the guy. Sure, he was a womanizer and a dick, who treated her like a school girl and constantly criticized her choice to become a hunter like her father and himself. But Jo was not one to live in denial, so she had accepted the fact that Dean _may_ had wormed his way into her heart.

Jo released an audible sigh. Yet another night went by with her being hung up on Dean Winchester and all that was gone and never to come back again. She really had to find someone to get her mind off the eldest Winchester, _pronto_.

"Rough day?" the brunette next to her asked, startling Jo. She had been aware of her presence, but, in her line of work, she wasn't used to making small talk with strangers at bars—unless, of course, she was on a case.

"More like rough month, actually," she replied without thinking, still quite surprised that the woman was making conversation with her. Actually, Jo was more surprised that _she_ was _replying._

The woman smiled in understanding. "Trust me, I know how _that_ feels like."

"A workaholic?" Jo prompted with a raised eyebrow.

She laughed, shaking her head. "A mother—far more intimidating."

Jo's lips curved on their own accord. Motherhood—a field she had no desire in becoming a part of. For all the lectures her mother used to give her about leading a normal life away from hunters, Ellen had — thankfully — never expressed her desire to become a grandma someday. Perhaps even Ellen knew that bringing a child into this world was a great responsibility — one that she, obviously, didn't think her daughter capable of undertaking. Not that Jo really minded, though. Having a kid was probably the last thing on her list at the moment—or _ever_, for that matter.

"So, where's your troublemaker right now?" she asked with mild interest. _Since I'm already here, might as well do something productive, _she told herself.

The brunette shrugged slightly, sipping her drink. "He's staying over at his friend's, so I've got a rare night off. After so long I can't even recall." She turned to Jo. "What about you? Married? Kids?"

Jo shook her head negatively. "Nope. Just chilling after a late shift at work." Even though she could not define why, her words seemed to leave a bitter taste on her tongue. Like she _wanted_ to have kids and a husband to run away from when things seemed too much to keep up with.

Silence passed between the two women, during which Jo gulped down a large portion of her beer. The woman eyed her closely, so much that the blonde began feeling a little uncomfortable. "Come on, what's really up with you?"

Jo felt like she'd just heard Ellen's voice. "Excuse me?"

"Don't take me wrong," she said in a sincere voice. "I've been a yoga instructor for years, I can tell by someone's body posture that there's something bothering them. You, for instance—your shoulders are humped and your back is stiff. There's definitely something bothering you." At Jo's astonished look, she chuckled. "I'm Lisa, by the way."

"Jo," she replied with nod, still amused by the fact that a complete stranger was able to read her so easily. It made her think of how easily the people who actually _knew_ her could see right through her.

Lisa smiled and Jo took notice of her pearly teeth. "So? Care to share your problems with a stranger?"

Jo pursed her lips, rather unsure of what to do, as she sipped her beer. "I've never really been one for that girl-talk crap."

Lisa took a long swig of her martini. "They say that there's a first time for everything."

Jo nodded unwillingly at that. Thinking about Dean — and her relation to Winchesters, in general — had been eating her from the inside for nearly two years now. First, it had been about their fathers; John being forced to kill Bill while they were on a case. Then, it had been Sam, who had come after her while he was possessed by a demon she had come to identify as Meg. But, overtime, she had realized that it had always been Dean whom her thoughts mostly revolved around of. Cocky, arrogant, sexy, over-protective, pain-in-the-ass Dean Winchester. And she never had someone to unravel her thoughts of him to before. Because — let's face it — Ellen wasn't pretty warmed up on the subject, and the next best thing would be the hunters that frequented on the Roadhouse, which was also a no-no.

But now, like a deus-ex-machina, Lisa had appeared, willing to listen and not judge her. Jo had always believed it was hopeless to tell your life story to a stranger and _oh so cliché_, but at the moment, it seemed like the best option available. A stranger would not judge her and, it's not like she would ever meet her again, right? Jo would be out of town in less than twelve hours, and Lisa would go on living her life as if she had never met the blonde hunter.

Jo couldn't seem to find a flaw on that plan.

Taking all of the above into consideration, she made up her mind. With a sigh and a swig of her beer, she started. "There's this guy..."

Lisa laughed despite herself. "It's always about them, isn't it?"

Jo gave her a small smile. "Not with _me_, it isn't." At Lisa's curious look, she shook her head. "I mean, I've never been one to have boy problems per se. I was always a bit of a tomboy."

Lisa gave her an eye over and Jo tried to suppress the shiver that ran down her spine. "Well, you certainly don't look the part. But, I guess your parents must be relieved. Mine certainly weren't when I began dating guys."

Jo swallowed the comment about her parents and chuckled. After almost twenty years without her father, she had gotten used to it. At first, she was hurt when people mentioned Bill, or the general father figure of a family, but she had come to terms with it, in the end. It wasn't like she was able to do anything to change reality and bring her father back. "Trust me, my mom would be more relieved if I was going after guys instead of trying to follow in my dad's footsteps."

"Family business?" Lisa prompted, the image of an automobile repair shop—or something along the lines—dancing in her mind.

Jo pursed her lips, shrugging her shoulders slightly. "You could say that."

"So, how does your guy fit in the story?"

Jo had to suppress the urge to laugh at the nickname Lisa had used. She knew that Dean would never be _her_ guy. What chance they may've had in the past had been ruined after he had died. Or, perhaps, after everything that happened in Duluth. Or maybe when the truth about their fathers' connection had been revealed. She wasn't entirely certain. Truth be told, she wasn't sure about anything nowadays.

"He is a _dick_." That caused Lisa to let out a confused laugh. "No, really. He comes in and out of my life with depressing regularity."

"How did you meet him?" Lisa asked, beginning to take interest in the other woman's story. Life in the country wasn't exactly exciting, thus it was only natural for her to find some amusement in the stranger's story.

Jo motioned to the bartender for another beer. "He came into my mother's bar, two years ago. We had a rocky start. I…" She tried not to sound too proud of herself. "I socked him in the face."

Lisa almost choked on her drink. "You _did_?"

"Oh, if you knew him, you would've, too," Jo assured her. "He just has this something that makes you want to either strangle him right there and then or kiss him senselessly." She pursed her lips in thought. "I still haven't decided what's the best option."

"Judging from the way you carry yourself when you talk about him, I'd say the latter," Lisa chirped in, making Jo blush.

"That obvious, huh?"

Lisa smiled softly at the younger woman. "I've seen that look in the mirror more times than I'd like to admit. So, what happened between you two?"

Jo's shoulders shrugged on their own accord. "It turned out that our fathers had messed up big time, and—I don't know. I guess I got mad at him for that. As if he was like his dad, even though he _wasn't_, and he was going to bail on me someday, too. It must have seemed like I was accusing him for something he had never done." She frowned upon uttering those lines. "Like that makes any sense," she muttered to herself.

Sensing Jo's hesitance, Lisa touched her shoulder. Jo's stiffened at the touch — she did not have fond memories of people being grabby, especially after the Sam-being-possessed-by-Meg incident — but didn't draw away. "You didn't try to sort things out?"

There it was again. Why did _she_ have to be the one to talk things through? Why did no one expect Dean to pick up the phone and give her a call? She almost laughed at that thought. Who was she kidding? Even _she_ didn't believe for a moment that he'd call her after Duluth. Dean Winchester's nature was love 'em and leave 'em — even though he'd never really loved _her_, but whatever.

"It was a wrong place, wrong time situation. It always has been that way for us," Jo explained with a sigh. "But this guy—he carries all kinds of crap he doesn't have to. I swear, he's the person with the most issues in the world. He's been through Hell—" Jo cringed at the irony of that statement, "—and yet he goes on like nothing's wrong. No matter how many times he falls, he just picks himself up and moves on, keeping everything to himself." She allowed herself a small smile. "He wants to be the one everyone runs to when they're in trouble. He is... _wayward_ like that."

There was a pause in her voice, which only served to deepen her pain. "Or he _was_, anyway."

Lisa seemed taken aback by the sudden revelation. "Was?"

"He died, almost three months ago." Jo's breath seemed to hitch on her throat for a moment, but she swallowed stubbornly. She was through with crying for Dean Winchester and she sure as Hell wasn't going to cry in front of a stranger. No matter how comforting they might've seemed to be.

"Oh, Jo," Lisa whispered comfortingly. "I'm so sorry."

Jo shook her head, taking a short moment to collect her thoughts and stop the rapid beating of her heart. "Don't be. It's okay, really. It's not like there was any progress between us before he died. I told you, it was always a 'wrong place, wrong time' thing."

"But that doesn't prove anything," Lisa commented, earning a raised eyebrow from the blonde. "The fact that he never acted on his feelings for you doesn't mean that he didn't have any."

Jo snorted at that. "Trust me, he's not the kind of guy that passes up a chance to be with a woman."

"Ladies' man?"

"Like you wouldn't believe."

Lisa laughed despite herself. "Well, aren't they all?" she asked, her mind drifting off to the father of Ben, her nine-year-old son. He was a biker with a leather jacket who lived on the road. After a short-lived relationship, he'd hit the road and left her with a kid growing in her belly. Another classic example of the 'love 'em and leave 'em' type.

"Damn straight they are," Jo added in slight annoyance, partly glad for the change in the direction of their conversation. Besides Dean, she'd met a handful of other men in her life that weren't exactly what you'd call relationship material. "Yours, too?"

Lisa shrugged casually. "He left me while I was pregnant with Ben—he's nine years old now. And I haven't heard of him since, so yeah. You could say that this applies to my situation as well."

A snort came from Jo's direction. "How can they be so stupid?" After Dean, she was completely convinced that she would never understand men. _Ever._

"I'm pretty sure it's second nature to them," Lisa added somewhat bitterly. It was obvious to the female hunter that the other woman had had her own fair share of failed relationships in the past. "The abstinence from anything that could be considered as commitment, I mean."

Jo silently agreed with that point.

"Has your son ever met his father?" Jo asked after a moment of contemplating it. She didn't feel exactly comfortable asking personal questions to a stranger, but tonight's circumstances had made her more prompt to prying into Lisa's life-story.

Lisa pursed her lips, seeming half-annoyed about the subject. "No, and I don't think he ever will. I'm not sure I even _want_ him to meet Ben. His father knows that he got me pregnant, alright, but I doubt that he'd ever go out of his way to meet his son. I'm betting he doesn't even _consider_ Ben his son." She rolled her eyes. "You know those bikers; they love having a girl in every port."

"Yeah, hunters are just about the same," Jo murmured quietly. Inevitably, her mind drifted off to Dean once again. His list of damsels across the entire country waiting desperately for a call from the witty Winchester was rather long. A scowl took over her face when she realized that _she_ had been on top of that list not too long ago. Still was, in a way.

"So, you're a single mom, then?" Jo asked her drinking partner a few moments later, to refrain herself from going further into thinking about Dean.

"In the flesh," Lisa replied in a fake-gloating tone, while ordering another appletini.

"Isn't it hard? Growing a kid by yourself, I mean."

Lisa pursed her lips in thought. "Sometimes, I guess. Whenever there's so much to do and so little time, or when he starts asking why all his friends have two parents, while he's got only one — I definitely could use a little help when all that comes down. You know, there are times when you're just about to blow, and it feels like no one can understand how you feel, and all you want is someone to lean on to, but you realize that there's no one there."

She finished with a simple shrug. "But I guess I've gotten used to it. Being a single parent also means that I don't have to share Ben, as selfish as that sounds. I'm the one he turns to whatever's his problem and, I don't know. I guess I like being the person he needs the most." A wry smirk appeared on her lips. "Why? Are you interested in having some on your own?"

Jo's face contracted in an expression of horror. "_Hell_ _no. _I've got enough problems as it is. Plus, it's not like I _like_ kids, anyway. All they seem to do is scare the hell outta me."

"Well, that's what we all thought, at first," Lisa argued. "When I first realized I was pregnant, I felt like someone had pulled the rug under my feet. I was only twenty-three, and I wanted to live my life, not settle down and have a family. But, when I saw the ultrasound, I knew that I had no other choice. I wasn't gonna kill the baby I was carrying, even if that meant sacrificing the life I led." She smiled fondly upon remembering the first time she had held Ben in her arms. Gods, he was so _tiny_. A pretty little thing snuggling against her, seeking comfort and warmth. She wouldn't have traded that for anything in the world.

"But, you know what? I never regretted keeping Ben. Sometimes, when he drives me up the wall and makes my life a living Hell, I can't help thinking why I decided to have him in the first place." The soft smile on Lisa's lips widened. "But then he does one little thing, he gives me that tiny little smile... And it lights up my world. Just like that. Even if he has been a hell-raiser for the past week. All it takes is a smile and I'm doomed."

Jo allowed herself a chuckle. That sure sounded like Ellen. As a kid, Jo would do all unimaginable things to drive her short-tempered mother up the wall — Hell, she _still_ did — and when Ellen was about to punish her, or make her do something she really wouldn't like, Jo would grin that bright grin of hers, and Ellen would be jello on her feet. Jo could never understand why — why her mother would always forgive her, even if she did the damnedest thing. Like when she had run off to become a hunter. Because, even though Ellen still hadn't warmed up to the idea of her little girl being a hunter, when she'd realized that Jo's mind was made up, she'd just told her to keep in touch and call often enough for her to know that her baby girl was alive and kicking.

To be frank, Jo had been expecting more of a tantrum from her mother, so seeing her surrender so easily had been a first. But now that Lisa had put it that way — how every mother would do anything for their child, and expect nothing in return — how they'd be content with as much as a single smile from their kid, the fog seemed to clear up. Like Ellen, Lisa had only one person in this world, and that was her son. That meant that she would hold onto him for the rest of her days on Earth. Maybe that was why Ellen was so reluctant in letting Jo set off to become a hunter. All she wanted was to have her daughter close.

Upon this revelation, Jo felt relatively bad for being such a stubborn daughter. Her mom didn't deserve to be treated like this. Perhaps she should drive up to Nebraska, come tomorrow. The last time she'd contacted with her mother was over a week ago, and she didn't doubt that Ellen would be going nuts by now. The Roadhouse was a good nine-hour trip from Cicero, but she supposed her mom was worth the trouble. With a mental sigh, Jo made her decision. Hunting would have to be pushed back for a while. She'd drive up to the Roadhouse, see her mom, help a little at the bar, maybe stick around for a day or two as well. It must have been pretty lonely after Ash died.

Jo chugged down the rest of her beer. _Nebraska it is, then._

"What are you thinking?" Lisa inquired, after seeing that Jo had fallen into deep thought. That girl was certainly one of the most interesting people she'd met in her life. Cicero was a small town, so she couldn't afford not to know every permanent resident. Thus, it was rare — not to mention refreshing — to come across a new face every now and then.

She smirked privately. _Dean's_ visits had surely felt _refreshing._

"Nothing," Jo blurted out all too quickly, keen on masking her feelings all the time, before she recalled who she was talking to. "Just my mother, actually. My dad died when I was a kid, so she practically raised me by herself. It's easy to forget how much she's sacrificed for me sometimes. And to think of what I've put her through all those years, it kinda makes me feel bad."

Lisa laughed softly at her confession. "Well, don't worry too much about that. Moms are tough. We can take whatever crap kids throw our way without as much as a bat of an eyelash. I mean, that's what kids are for, after all. To drive us crazy and make us feel like gods at the same time." At Jo's confused look, she shook her head. "You'll understand when you have kids on your own."

Jo snorted involuntarily at that. "No thanks. I'd rather stick on the other side of the fence. Changing diapers and running after a brat twenty-four-seven ain't really my thing."

Lisa leaned her elbow against the wooden counter, and pressed her chin against her closed fist. "What if it just... _happened_? Wouldn't you keep it?"

"I don't know," she replied honestly. "I'm not mother material. I was practically raised in a bar. There's little I know besides cars, drinks and poker." She graciously omitted the 'guns, knives and hunting down monsters' part. "Everyone says kids are a blessing, but to me, it would be a curse. To both of us, I mean. I'm barely capable of taking care of myself. I don't wanna know what I'd do if I had to look after a baby, too." In all truth, this was the first time she'd actually admitted that to herself. Jo had always thought of herself as an independent woman who could take anything life threw her way, but honestly, she had come close enough to dying so many times this past year that she'd realized just how _in_capable of taking care of herself she was. Of course, she tried to be more careful, but _meh_. Ellen was proved to be right already.

With a shake of her head, Jo concluded, "I guess I'll walk that bridge _if_ I ever get there."

Lisa nodded in understanding. "Well, then I hope you don't."

A short laughter escaped Jo's lips. "Me, too." The two women talked some more, going on about random facts in both their lives, during which Jo took extra care to not let anything about her line of work slip out. She liked Lisa — she was one of the most pleasant people she'd ever had the luck to meet — but revealing a secret such as that would definitely crash whatever they'd been building all night. So instead, Jo watched her slightly slippery mouth to avoid such inconveniences.

A while later, Jo was in the process of raising her hand to order yet another beer, when her eye caught sight of the time on her wrist-watch, and she almost cursed out loud. It was nearing five in the morning and she had no idea where the hell had all this time gone. But, then again, time does fly when you're having a good time.

Lisa noticed her glancing at her watch and opted for a slightly sad look. "You're leaving?"

"Uh, yeah. I've got to catch a few hours of sleep and then hit the road. It's a long trip back home," Jo replied while throwing a few bills for the beers on the counter and trying to slip on her jacket.

"Oh," the brunette mouthed slowly. Then, she reached inside her purse and pulled out a pen. Snatching a napkin from the counter, she scribbled something down on it, before handing it to Jo, who eyed the piece of paper with a raised eyebrow. "I don't really do this, but I really had a great time tonight. And I'd like for us to do this again, sometime." She pointed to the napkin in Jo's hand. "This is my number. So, if you're ever again in town, just give me a call and we can have a drink or something," she explained with a sincere smile.

Jo felt... touched. Nobody — and a stranger at that — had ever been this kind to her. In her world, you didn't just go around making friends with civilians and having a good ol' time whenever you felt like it. It was all about hunting. Hunting always came first. And she had liked it, for a really long time. But _this_—what she had experienced tonight, made her change her mind a little regarding _normal_ people. Lisa behaved like the sister she never had. And deep inside, Jo was grateful for that. Tucking the napkin safely inside her jeans' pocket, she shook Lisa's outstretched hand with a bright smile.

"Thanks," she said in reply. "I... I'd like that."

Lisa's smile didn't falter for a moment. "Just give me a call."

"I will."

And she would. Be it out of spite — because _Dean_ had never called, even though he'd said he would — or because of that feeling of amity she felt towards the older woman, Jo _would_ give Lisa a call the next time she passed by Cicero, Indiana. After all, friends are the spice of life. And with this life she led, Jo was direly in need of one to remind her that she was still human.

So, screw the rules of hunting or whatever. For Jo Harvelle had finally found herself a friend.

Oh, Ellen would be _enthralled._


End file.
